


feel something so right (doing the wrong thing)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, But also, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Nude Photos, Sort Of, idiots to lovers, kinda horny kinda repressed, kyle connor's abs, mark scheifele's one (1) permitted swear word, so tragic how nobody in this has even one braincell, the implications of a sex on the beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: It’s a Thursday night when Mark’s entire world implodes on itself.Figuratively speaking.(he might need a stronger drink.)
Relationships: Background Nikolaj Ehlers/Patrik Laine, Kyle Connor/Mark Scheifele
Comments: 8
Kudos: 134





	feel something so right (doing the wrong thing)

**Author's Note:**

> remember how i said long ago that i have to grind rare pair fics so they stop being rare. mm. yeah.
> 
> anyway based very loosely on a true story wherein a friend of a friend has a crush on a bartender who happens to be selling nudes to raise money for the australia bushfires and asked other people to buy a nude for him.
> 
> is this stupid? yes. but THEY'RE stupid so it's physically impossible to write anything less!
> 
> also scheif is doing a masters in english in this and also ta-ing but NOT ta-ing anyone in the story. kc and patrik are fourth year undergrads. don't ask what nikolaj's doing. just vibing, probably.
> 
> title from "counting stars" by onerepublic

It’s a Thursday night when Mark’s entire world implodes on itself.

The cause: _ GET NUDES, GIVE BACK, _ written in chalk on the blackboard over the bar. On one side, there’s a lopsided shape with bright orange flames drawn on it. Mark guesses it’s supposed to be Australia. On the other side, there’s a stick figure with a question mark inside a square over its crotch and a scribble of orange hair.

The hair matches the fire. Someone—probably Connor—even managed to scrounge up pink chalk for the body. The stick figure is winking.

Someone bumps into Mark.

“Bro,” Adam says, “move.”

Mark realizes that he’s been standing frozen in the doorway for several seconds too long and hurries to step out of the way. He goggles at the blackboard again.

“Hey!” Kyle pops up from behind the bar with two bottles of whiskey. “‘Sup, guys?”

Mark shuffles after his friends to say hi to Kyle, who is grinning and bumping knuckles with them. He waits until they’re out of the way to slide into one of the barstools across from Kyle.

Kyle is already preparing the guys a tray of their favourite drinks and he raises an eyebrow to see Mark sitting at the bar instead of at the table with his friends.

“Hi, Mark,” Kyle says. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He laughs when Mark rolls his eyes.

“I wish you weren’t taking that poetry class,” Mark says.

“Hey, it’s my last year. I need the hours.” He shrugs and pulls out an orange slice, cutting it in the centre and placing it on the rim of the glass. “Be right back.” He picks up the tray, balancing it easily, and carries it over to the table where Mark’s friends are sitting.

Technically, he isn’t supposed to do that, but. Regulars.

Back behind the bar, he props his elbows up and looks at Mark curiously. “So what’s up?” he asks.

“I was wondering about, um.” Instead of trying to explain what he wants to ask, he points at the blackboard.

Kyle grins sheepishly and blushes. “Connor drew it,” he says. “I think he was trying to be funny, but come on. My abs look way better than that.”

Mark narrowly avoids asking to see said abs and drums his fingers on the bartop. “No, I meant, uh. The thing. Not the drawings.” His own face heats up and he winces at his awkwardness.

“Oh!” Understanding dawns on Kyle’s face. “You weren’t here last weekend. Your mom was in town, right?”

“Um.” What. “Yeah?” Sure, Mark mentioned it, but he didn’t expect Kyle to _ remember. _ Even though he had, of course, asked Mark to say hi for him. Which Mark had done. It’s whatever.

Kyle nods. “That’s when this ugly thing was unveiled,” he says, jabbing a thumb behind him to point at the board. “I’m surprised the boys didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah,” Mark says, trying to glare at his friends as subtly as possible, “me too.”

His friends don’t notice him glaring, too busy talking and drinking, and Kyle is looking at him weirdly. 

“Anyway,” Kyle says, dragging it out, “this wasn’t really my idea. Like, you saw that girl on Twitter who sold nudes for charity?” At Mark’s nod, he continues. “I thought it was cool, you know? A good idea. Blake won’t fire me for it. I talked to him about it and made sure he was chill.”

Of course Blake is fine with it. Real Mister Nice Guy, that man. If any boss were to be cool with one of their employees selling nudes for a good cause, it _ would _ be him.

“So you just, like. Get random guys to pay you and then send them nudes?”

“Girls, too, if they want, but yeah.” Kyle eyes him cautiously. “You’re not going to be weird about this, are you? I mean—”

“No, of course not,” Mark says, hurrying to cut him off. “It’s for a good cause, all that. It’s admirable, what you’re doing.”

“Aw, thanks,” Kyle says. He reaches across the bar to pinch Mark’s cheek and giggles when Mark shoves his hand away.

They’re quiet for a long moment. Mark stares into space, tracing his finger in absent patterns on the bartop.

Something feels… weird, twisting heavy in his stomach. He doesn’t like it. It’s not disgust at Kyle doing this, it’s something else. Something more personal. _ Jealousy. _

He’s jealous. Jealous that people are going to see Kyle naked _ just for them, _and Mark can’t. Okay, in theory, he could just buy nudes, too. He won’t, though. That’s—It’s too close.

He wonders if it’ll be weirder if he doesn’t.

“Sex on the beach?” Kyle says, interrupting his thoughts.

Mark stares at him. The back of his neck feels warm. “Uh.”

Kyle holds a bottle of orange juice so close to Mark’s face that he has to cross his eyes to see it. He shakes the bottle. “The drink, babe,” he says, grinning a little.

Mark flushes at the pet name. “I’m, um. Yes. Please. Thanks.”

Kyle’s grin gets bigger and he steps away to mix the drink. His hands are quick and deft as he pours and stirs and twists caps, and Mark loses himself in watching him work. He makes it look so easy.

Kyle tucks a piece of hair behind his ear and puts the orange slice on the rim of the glass, then slides the drink across the bar right into Mark’s waiting hand.

For a minute, Mark holds the glass and looks at the pink drink in his hand. Condensation drips over his fingers. He looks back at Kyle, who has an expectant look on his face.

That lock of hair he’d pushed back is loose again. It falls over his cheek, curling just a bit at the end. Mark wants to touch it.

“You should tie your hair back,” he says. “It’d be easier, don’t you think?” 

Almost self-consciously, Kyle runs his fingers through his hair. Mark tries to swallow, but his mouth is dry. His eyes are fixed on the way Kyle’s hair shifts under his hands.

“Do you think I’d look good?” Kyle asks. He’s half-smiling, but there’s an edge of something unfamiliar in his eyes. 

Mark takes a sip of his drink so he doesn’t have to answer right away. It’s blessedly cool and sweet and he sets it down gently. “Sure,” he says. He coughs awkwardly. “I should go—my friends.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Right, uh. Yeah.” Kyle nods and turns around, grabbing a cloth to wipe down a spotless piece of counter. 

Mark stares at him for a second, then slides off his stool and goes to join the rest of the guys. He jabs an elbow into Adam’s ribs when he sits beside him—accidentally, of course.

“Ow,” Adam whines. “What the fuck, bro?”

Mark sets his glass down hard and glowers at his terrible friends. “Why didn’t any of you _ tell me?” _ he hisses.

Nikolaj blinks at him. “Tell you about what?” he asks, fake innocence in his eyes. His mouth twitches.

Before Mark can reach over and get him in a headlock, Patrik slings an arm around Nikolaj’s shoulders, effectively tugging him away from Mark and into his side. Patrik winks at Mark over Nikolaj’s head.

“Tell me about—about—you know!” He gesticulates wildly, probably not being very clear.

His friends know exactly what he means, though.

“We thought it would be funnier this way,” Adam says, grinning. It’s pretty obvious that he thinks it’s hilarious.

“It is _ not _ funny,” Mark says, remembering at the last second not to shriek. His voice comes out somewhat strangled as a result. “This is the _ worst!” _

“Dude,” Nikolaj says from his comfortable position under Patrik’s arm, “just, like, buy some nudes and get over it.”

The others murmur agreement. Mark takes a long sip of his drink and slams his glass down.

“I can’t do that,” he says, scowling at the melting ice in his glass as though it holds all the answers.

“Uh, why not?” Josh raises an eyebrow. “How long have you been into him again?” 

Mark’s face flushes. “That is not the point!” he says, too loud. He lowers his voice. “I don’t want him to see that I’m buying his nudes.”

Everyone looks pretty unimpressed. Nikolaj takes an extra-loud sip of his blue drink to emphasize this and Mark kicks him in the shin.

“You know he’s been flirting with you for-fucking-ever, right?” Adam says. “I’m pretty sure he wants you to.”

At the mention of Kyle’s flirting, Mark’s face gets even hotter. “He has not,” Mark objects. “He’s like that with everybody!”

“Then why did he look like you kicked his dog when you came over here?” Patrik says. He doesn’t sound overly invested, but he likes making Mark squirm.

Every day for four years Mark has regretted adopting the weird Finnish frosh into his friend group. Every day. For four years.

“He did not!” Mark says. He can’t help himself from twisting in his seat to look at Kyle, though.

Kyle is still behind the bar, rubbing a cloth over something sticky on the counter with a distant look in his eyes. He seems to feel that he’s being watched and looks up, glancing around the room before his gaze settles on Mark. He starts to smile.

Mark looks away immediately, embarrassed at being caught.

“He’s doing it again,” Josh tells him.

Mark refuses to look back. “Whatever,” he snaps. “He’s not, so it doesn’t matter. We’re just, like. Bros.” Bros, but Mark wants to see Kyle’s abs. And touch them. Maybe lick them, too. Again, whatever.

“You know,” Nikolaj says in his thoughtful voice, from which nothing good ever comes, “if you really wanna see him naked, we could buy the nudes for you.”

Patrik’s arm drops from Nikolaj’s shoulder so quickly that Nikolaj almost falls out of his chair. “Babe,” he says, sounding scandalized. _ “Babe.” _

Nikolaj waves his arms around defensively. “For Scheif!” he says. _ “I _ don’t want them!”

Patrik looks more or less pacified and lets Nikolaj tuck himself back against his side.

Adam nods wisely. “It’s a good idea,” he agrees.

“You wouldn’t,” Mark says.

“Hey, it’s for two good causes,” Adam says. “Charity _ and _ you get some nudes.” He shrugs, like that’s somehow normal.

“What the heck,” Mark mutters, wondering how this is his life.

“‘Sides, I wanna support a bro, but I don’t need his nudes.” Adam grins. “You could use ‘em, though. If you know what I mean.” He winks lewdly, laughing at Mark’s horror.

“You suck,” Mark says. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Nikolaj says. This time, he kicks Mark in the shin before Mark can get him.

Mark slumps back into his seat and takes a sip of his drink, his thoughts racing.

The thing is. Well. The thing is, Mark _ does _ want to see Kyle naked. He wants to see pictures of him showing off his body. He wants to know if he looks shy or confident in his pictures, if the pose depends on who buys them, what parts of his body he focuses the camera on.

But the other thing is, Mark also wants to _ touch. _ He wants to feel Kyle’s skin under his hands, run his fingers through his hair, lace their fingers together and feel his skin warm under his lips. 

The idea of pictures that weren’t even taken for him, so close to what he wants but never close enough—it’s tempting, but. But.

Mark sighs and spins his glass, swirling what remains of his drink. “Fine,” he says. He gives each of the guys a threatening glare. “Not a word of this to Kyle, okay?”

One by one, each one of them agrees and, eventually, the conversation moves on. Mark relaxes while Nikolaj argues with Adam about something football related.

Surely they’ll all have forgotten by tomorrow. Surely they won’t actually do it.

Surely.

Unless?

Mark wakes up early the next morning and goes to work. He spends the morning grading in the English department, scribbling in red pen on some freshman essays. He likes his job, he really does, but _ god _is it exhausting.

Like, how hard is it to put citations in properly? Mark kind of hates eighteen year olds.

Someone knocks at the door and Mark looks up, pushing his glasses into his hair. Kyle saunters in and, without ceremony, flops onto the gross little couch in the corner.

His shirt is riding up just enough for Mark to see a pale strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans. Mark takes a sip of too-hot coffee to distract himself.

“What’s up?” Mark says, his voice remarkably steady.

“I’m waiting for Patrik and Nik,” Kyle says. He laces his fingers together over his stomach and closes his eyes, wriggling until he gets comfy. “Patrik has some lab thing, I dunno. We’re going for pizza.”

“So you decided to wait here,” Mark says slowly, “instead of in the bio building?” Something warm flutters in his chest and he squashes it down.

“Mm,” Kyle answers. “The science building is gross. Plus, you’re not in the bio building.” He keeps his eyes closed, so he doesn’t see the way Mark’s cheeks burn red.

“Oh, well,” Mark says, his voice cracking a little. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for letting me use your couch,” Kyle says, cracking an eye open and grinning lazily.

“It’s technically your couch, too,” Mark reminds him, because this office belongs to the English department and, by extension, the university as a whole.

Kyle waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever, dude,” he says. “I’m not an English major.” Kyle is in his last year of his art history degree, which, really, close enough. He takes enough English classes that it could be his minor, though he doesn’t seem to have any interest in that.

Kyle’s phone buzzes and he fumbles to pull it out, squinting at the screen. He glances at the clock behind Mark’s desk. “You’re done in fifteen, right?” he asks. “You wanna come?”

Mark doesn’t ask how he knows exactly when Mark’s office hours end. He shouldn’t go, really. He opens his mouth to refuse, but what comes out is: “Yeah, sure, just give me a few minutes to finish up."

“Cool.” Kyle smiles and taps out a message on his phone, probably to Patrik or Nikolaj or both.

It’s hard to focus after that, what with Kyle sprawled on the couch like he belongs there, one hand tucked just under his shirt and absently rubbing his hip bone. The tiny piece of pale skin Mark can see makes him wonder if he’s that pale everywhere, if he gets red when people touch him, if he bruises easily.

Mark has to keep forcing his eyes back to the papers in front of him, trying to convince himself that it would be a bad idea to push away from the desk and climb on top of Kyle to kiss him. To push his shirt up and touch him for real.

He doesn’t want to lose his job or his friend, so he doesn’t. But he thinks about it.

As soon as the hour hand strikes the one, Mark stuffs his papers into his bag and stands up. Kyle gets up, too, leading him out of the office and down the stairs to the parking lot.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” Kyle says. “I always feel like the third wheel when I hang out with them. They’re so gross.”

Mark laughs. _ “Everyone _ is a third wheel with them.”

Kyle snorts and pulls out his car keys. “They have to sit in the backseat today,” he says, a secret smile on his face, “because you’re my favourite.”

“Thanks,” Mark says, hoping Kyle can’t tell how dry his mouth feels. He scrambles into the passenger seat and tries to get his blush under control before Kyle gets in.

Mark messes with the radio, trying to find something decent while Kyle drives across campus to the bio building. He settles on a top forty station and gets a half-amused, half-exasperated look from Kyle. Mark shrugs, grinning.

“Don’t let me pick the music next time, then,” he says, answering the chirp before it even leaves Kyle’s lips.

Kyle’s laugh is surprised but pleased, and he gets himself under control enough to frown. “Maybe I won’t,” he says sternly. He shoots a quick glance at Mark, unable to stop his smile.

“Mmkay,” Mark says. He settles back into his seat and looks out the window, hiding his smile.

That’s exactly what Kyle said last time, too.

Patrik and Nikolaj are sitting on a bus stop bench, Patrik’s arm slung comfortably over Nikolaj’s shoulders. Mark opens the window to wave them over.

“Ugh, not you again,” Patrik says with an exaggerated eye roll. He nudges Nikolaj into the backseat before following and Kyle drives off while they fumble with their seatbelts.

“Don’t forget, I know your profs,” Mark says threateningly.

“No, you don’t, literature boy,” Nikolaj says, far too cheerful. “You haven’t had a class in the science buildings since you were eighteen.”

He’s right but, like.

“Shut up,” Mark snaps.

“Guys, come on,” Kyle says, giving them a look in the rearview mirror. Before Mark can graciously thank him, he adds, “Mark is _ my _ guest, which means _ I’m _ the one who gets to be mean to him.”

Howling laughter from the backseat.

“I hate you,” Mark grumbles. “Drop me off.”

Kyle just laughs.

Despite his complaining, Mark ends up tucked in a booth at the restaurant with Kyle beside him. Nikolaj keeps stealing sips of Patrik’s drink across the table, much to Patrik’s (probably fake) chagrin.

“Why didn’t you just order it yourself?” Patrik asks, failing once again to snatch his glass away from Nikolaj’s sneaky hands.

“Because I wanted my _ own _ drink, too!” Nikolaj says, taking an obnoxious sip through the straw. His cheeks hollow as he sucks and he stares straight at Patrik, his lips slanted in a smirk.

Patrik’s face flushes and his glare turns a little less mock-angry to a little more turned on. He grabs Nikolaj’s wrist but doesn’t take his glass back. 

“Do you see what I meant about the third wheel thing,” Kyle says. He’s speaking to Mark, but he raises his voice so the others can hear.

Nikolaj jumps guiltily and passes the glass back to Patrik. Patrik whispers something to him that has his ears turning bright red.

Mark _ really _ does not want to know.

“Anyway,” Kyle says, dragging it out. He sets his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands. He glances at the three of them. “Any plans for the weekend?”

“Uh, yeah,” Patrik says, “I’ve got to write my report.” He waggles his fingers in sardonic excitement.

“Not all weekend, though,” Nikolaj says. “Remember?” His eyes are way too round and his cheeks much too pink for this to be something innocent, so Mark interrupts.

“I have to finish grading a couple essays,” he says. “I should be done by Saturday, though.”

“Boo,” Kyle says, kicking his ankle gently. “No fun.”

Mark shrugs. “You?”

“Working,” Kyle says. He taps a finger against his chin. “I have to take some pictures, too.” A slow grin crosses his face at Nikolaj’s squeak.

Nikolaj hurries to swallow his mouthful of whoever’s drink he’s drinking now and smacks both hands down onto the table. “Pictures, like.” He looks around suspiciously. “You know. _ Pictures?” _

“Yes, Nik,” Kyle says patiently. “Those ones.” Kyle takes a sip of his drink.

While Kyle is occupied with his glass, Nikolaj and Patrik shoot matching significant looks at Mark. It’s kind of creepy, so Mark ignores them.

The pizza _ is _ good and, despite the aggravation they cause him, Mark _ does _ like to hang out with his friends. They talk about school and work and hockey, of course, and Nikolaj brightens when he says that his sister will be coming to visit in a month.

Kyle laughs so hard at something Patrik says that he leans his forehead against Mark’s shoulder to catch his breath, wheezing through his laughter. Nikolaj gets back from the bathroom and looks perplexed for a second before shrugging and settling into Patrik’s side, maneuvering Patrik’s arm to wrap around him.

They stay in their booth long enough that the waiters start to give them dirty looks and eventually they have to leave. The bill comes with four little lollipops, which Mark decides are better than the mints as far as fun post-meal treats go, but definitely worse in that Nikolaj immediately does to it what he had done with Patrik’s straw earlier.

Kyle just rolls his eyes this time. There’s really no stopping Nikolaj when it comes to this sort of thing.

Patrik and Nikolaj say goodbye when they leave the restaurant, claiming that they’re going to take the bus downtown for a while. Mark isn’t sure if he believes them, but whatever. He fistbumps them and follows Kyle back to the car.

He unwraps his lollipop and sucks on it thoughtfully. That felt a lot like a double date to him.

But still, he doesn’t want to make assumptions and make things weird, so he won’t mention it. 

Kyle dangles his car keys from his fingers and glances at Mark. “You wanna drive?” he asks.

“Sure,” Mark says, a little mangled with the lollipop in his mouth. He catches the keys when Kyle tosses them and gets in the driver’s seat.

It’s not the first time he’s been behind the wheel of Kyle’s car, so he starts it easily and pulls onto the streets. The plastic wrap of Kyle’s lollipop crinkles beside him and he chances a look over just in time to see him wrap his lips around it.

_ Not the time to get a boner, _ Mark tells himself firmly. He bites down hard on his own lollipop, the candy breaking in his mouth. _ Not. The. Time. _

He drives back to his apartment and does _ not _ think about the barely audible sound of Kyle sucking on his lollipop only a couple feet away.

It’s only late afternoon, but the sun is already going down. Winnipeg winters, Mark thinks glumly. 

The early sunsets and long nights at this time of year make Mark’s apartment feel cold and lonely. Not just metaphorically, either; the heating system is always breaking and without the sun in the evenings, warmth dissipates fast.

That’s totally the only reason Mark asks Kyle if he wants to come up and hang out for a while. Nothing else. Obviously.

Kyle smiles brightly, one of his big smiles that has the corners of his eyes crinkling, and agrees.

The heat is actually working today, which is a pleasant surprise, all the better because it means Kyle takes off his coat and flops onto Mark’s couch in nothing but his T-shirt. He tugs at the collar of his shirt to scratch his upper chest, flashing his sharp collarbone. 

Mark’s mouth feels like a desert. He shuffles to the kitchen and grabs a beer for himself. “Drink?” he calls. 

“Just water, please,” Kyle answers. He stretches, then slumps further into the cushions, leaning against the armrest with his long legs drawn up. “I have to work tonight. By the way, this couch is way better than the English department’s.” 

Mark pops the cap off his beer and pours a glass of water for Kyle. “I don’t know if that says more about my taste in couches or the English department’s parsimony.” He sits beside Kyle and hands him his water.

“Huh?” Kyle says mildly. “Bro. ‘Parsimony’? Really?” 

Mark grins. “Sorry,” he says. He taps his temple. “I was grading, remember?”

Kyle kicks him in the thigh. “Nerd,” he says, but there’s no bite to it. His eyes are soft.

“Whatever,” Mark says, a little gentler than he usually would. He takes a swig of his beer.

Kyle’s foot is still pressed against Mark’s leg and as the afternoon fades into evening, both of his socked feet end up tucked under Mark’s thigh. They’re watching a nature documentary, something about penguins that they’d settled on while Mark was flipping through channels to find something good.

Just after five, Kyle sighs and sits up straight, swaying a bit with the abrupt movement. He blinks. “I’ve gotta go,” he says, almost regretful.

“Oh,” Mark says. Of course. It’s Friday—one of Kyle’s longest nights. “Right, yeah. I should finish my essays.”

“For sure,” Kyle says, and it’s—it’s weird. He looks shifty, his hands fidgeting anxiously.

When did it get weird?

Before Mark has a chance to say anything else, Kyle is up and at the door, bent over to tie his boots. Mark is confused, but not so much that he doesn’t stare at Kyle’s ass for a second.

He kicks himself in the ankle when he realizes what he’s doing. “Ouch,” he says, because he kicked a little too hard.

Kyle straightens and looks at him curiously. “Did you say something?” 

“Um. No.” Mark wishes he weren’t such an idiot. “See you later?”

“You bet,” Kyle says, and any awkwardness that had been between them a moment ago disappears when Kyle steps forward to give him a quick hug.

It’s not a bro hug—it’s a legit, both arms kind of hug, the kind where Mark has time to catch the scent of Kyle’s shampoo and feel how solid he is. He _ definitely _ has nice abs, Mark laments.

“Bye, KC,” Mark says softly. He steps back.

“Bye,” Kyle says with a quick smile, and he goes.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, Mark scrubs his hands over his face and groans into his palms. He is going to lose his mind.

He considers jerking off, but decides he has some self-respect. He goes back to the TV, finger hovering over the power button.

On the screen, two penguins are huddled together and looking quite comfortable despite the raging blizzard around them. One of them nuzzles the other with its beak.

“Ugh,” Mark says, switching it off. Frickin’ _ penguins. _ Life isn’t fair.

He ends up lying on his back on the rug, staring at the ceiling. It’s white and covered in ugly spackle. He wonders who thought that was a good idea.

He calls Jake.

“Hello?”

“Who do you think invented spackle?” Mark asks, not saying hello.

“Uh, buddy,” Jake says, mild concern in his voice, “are you okay?”

“I think I’m having a mental breakdown,” Mark says conversationally.

Jake pauses. Mark has said this to him enough times that he probably won’t be _ too _ concerned, but still.

“Hm,” Jake says. “I didn’t know you missed me _ that _ much.”

Mark scoffs. “Shut up, _ Jacob,” _ he says. He does miss Jake, is the thing, but he’s not going to admit that when he’s sober. 

Okay, maybe he’s drunk called Jake a few times asking his voicemail to drop out of NYU and come back, but whatever. He’s allowed to miss his best friend.

Still, today is not about Jake. Mark tells him as much.

“Ohh-kay,” Jake says, dragging it out. “What’s going on with you, then?”

Mark avoids the question. He’ll tell Jake, obviously, but he wants to prolong the time he has before Jake starts making fun of him about it. “How do you know when someone’s into you?” he blurts.

“Uh, Scheif,” Jake says, “haven’t you dated people?” He doesn’t mention the years the two of them spent dancing around each other, neither of them having the courage to do something about it before eventually moving on. He’s a good friend like that.

Mark rolls his eyes. Jake can’t see it, but he knows Mark well enough that he probably knows what Mark is doing. Judging by his snort, he does.

“Yes,” Mark says snippily, “but it’s never been really _ serious, _ you know?” Mark _ maybe _ has high expectations for what a relationship should be. He’s never been satisfied with casual, always too intense for the other person, and it was never long before things ended.

“I know,” Jake sighs. He breathes on the other end of the line for a while. 

Mark wishes he were here more fiercely than he has in months. Jake might be an idiot sometimes, but he always makes Mark feel better. 

“Why are you calling me, Mark?” Jake asks finally.

Mark takes a deep breath and tells him everything. He tells him about last night, how Kyle invited him to lunch, the way it had felt like a date, how he’d come over after and had seemed kind of strange for a little but mostly it had felt as natural as breathing.

For once, Jake doesn’t interrupt. He listens quietly until Mark finishes speaking, then he’s quiet some more. Mark bites his lip.

“So,” Jake says. He hesitates, and Mark hears the grin in his voice when he speaks again. “Did your friends send you his pictures yet?”

“Oh, you _ suck,” _ Mark says, his scowl disappearing when Jake laughs. “And no.”

“You’re hopeless,” Jake mutters. Then, louder, “You have to talk to him, Scheif. From what you’ve said, it sounds like he likes you a lot.” 

“That’s what Adam says,” Mark tells him.

“Okay, scratch that,” Jake says. “Do the opposite of whatever Adam says.” 

They both laugh and lapse into a comfortable silence for a minute.

Mark is the first to break it. “I do miss you a lot,” he says quietly. “It’s nice to call you but it’s—it isn’t the same, you know?”

“I know,” Jake answers. “I miss you, too.” He sighs. “Don’t go replacing me with your other American boy, okay?”

“I’m not replacing you,” Mark says. “He’s different. He’s—” Mark breaks off, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t know how to explain _ what _ Kyle is. He’s just—he’s _ Kyle. _

Jake laughs. “I can’t say for sure if he’s into you,” he says, “but I can already tell that _ you _ really like him.”

Mark grumbles a bit, but doesn’t argue. _ Can’t _ argue. Instead, he changes the subject and lets Jake chatter in his ear about New York and the people he’s befriended there and the rat that he saw with a Twinkie in its mouth on the subway.

Mark feels much better after the call ends and he decides to be productive by marking essays while he makes dinner.

Later, he figures he doesn’t have _ that _much self-respect and jerks off in the shower, thinking about that strip of skin just above Kyle’s waistband.

He’s coping, okay?

It’s whatever. 

At least.

_ It’s whatever _ until Saturday evening. 

Mark isn’t going out tonight. His essays are all neatly stacked in a folder and secure in his bag, ready to be brought in on Monday, but the effort of marking the last few drained him enough that he’s spending the evening lying on the couch and debating between cooking dinner or ordering in.

His phone lights up with a message from Adam. He squints at the screen. The sun has gone down since he started lying on the couch, leaving his living room in darkness, but his phone brightness is still up.

He blinks a couple times to focus his eyes and opens Adam’s message. There’s an attachment followed by a winky face emoji. 

Without thinking, he taps the attachment. 

_ Oh dear. _

Mark stares, stunned.

_ Oh dear oh dear oh dear. _

Mark’s next thought, once he’s over that, is, _ he really does have great abs. _

Because looking back at him through the screen of the phone is _ Kyle. _

Mark realizes too late that that should’ve been obvious. Unfortunately, his brain is still a little fried from all the essays he read earlier, so he wasn’t thinking too clearly.

His mind snaps into focus now, though, now that he’s confronted with Kyle’s extremely naked body.

Kyle is half-smiling, but that way he does when his mouth is just waiting to stretch into a big, reckless grin. He’s looking at the camera through his long, red-gold eyelashes, mischief in his blue eyes. One of his hands is pressed to his chest, thumb just below his nipple.

His other hand is at the crease of his thigh, just beside his dick.

Mark almost swallows his tongue and almost drops his phone in his rush to turn it off. He stares at the black screen, breathing hard. 

_ Oh dear, _he thinks again.

Despite the phone being off, Mark can still see all of Kyle’s pale, unmarked skin in his mind, his soft red hair, the definition of his muscles and that look in his eyes like he knows something Mark doesn’t.

Mark’s phone lights up with another message, this time from Patrik. _ lol have fun, _comes seconds after.

He knows exactly what it is. He opens it anyway.

In this picture, Kyle is actually lying in his bed, sprawled casually over the artfully rumpled sheets. He doesn’t look quite so mischievous as he did in Adam’s. He’s biting his lip shyly and his hands are on his pale, soft inner thighs, holding his legs apart. His fingers are digging hard into his skin.

“Ungh,” Mark says eloquently. His heart hammers against his ribs.

He stares at this one until he gets two notifications in quick succession from Nikolaj and Josh, then, a few minutes after that, from Jake. All of them are pictures of Kyle.

_ Nik sent me the link lmao, _Jake says. 

Mark barely even processes that. His hands are trembling and his cock is hard in his sweats. His skin feels too hot, too tight. He drops his phone and grinds the heel of his hand over the front of his pants, groaning in relief.

He can’t stop himself from slipping his hand under his waistband to wrap around his dick. He strokes a couple times, though it’s still too dry. He licks his palm and gets back to work.

He fumbles for his phone, typing his passcode with sweaty fingers. It unlocks to the first picture of Kyle and he stares at it while he gets himself off.

He comes with a strangled gasp and Kyle’s knowing eyes watching him from the screen.

Mark turns his phone off and struggles to catch his breath, shame starting to rise heavy in his chest. 

Oh dear, indeed.

Mark doesn’t answer his friends and turns them down later when they invite him out, citing work that has to be done.

He’s pretty sure that all of them know he’s lying. He doesn’t care. He feels guilty enough already.

He drags himself to campus on Monday and spends a while lying on the couch there before his office hours start. At least nobody else is around to see him looking so despondent. They’d probably take a picture of him to put on a poster about seeking aid with school stress or something.

Mark blows out a breath and sits in his desk chair. He swivels a couple times and stares at his laptop.

It’s a few minutes before a student comes in and he spends a while talking to her, explaining some terms that she wants to study for the exam, and she leaves with a pleased look on her face.

Three more students come see Mark. It’s a pretty easy afternoon, all things considered, and he feels a little better knowing that he’s helpful.

Then Kyle comes in. He heads straight for the couch, as usual, and makes himself comfortable. “How’s your work?” he asks. He folds an arm behind his head so he can look at Mark.

“My work?” Mark doesn’t know what he means.

Kyle looks confused. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “You weren’t at the bar last night. Adam said you were busy with work.”

“Oh, right,” Mark says, wishing he wasn’t such a terrible liar. “Yeah, it’s, uh. Fine.” 

“Okay,” Kyle says. His voice is unusually quiet and uncertain. “I wanted to ask if you want to come for lunch with me today?”

Mark wants to. He can’t. “Sorry,” he says, and hides his wince when Kyle’s face falls. “Maybe another time.”

“Uh huh,” Kyle says. He gets up and goes to the door. His shoulders are hunched, almost defensive. “Bye, then.” He leaves.

Mark watches him go without a word. Seeing Kyle brings back all the shame that he’d felt after jerking off to his pictures, but also the memory of what he looks like under his clothes. 

Mark still wants to touch him, perhaps now more than ever. He doesn’t know if he deserves it.

He doubts it.

Kyle doesn’t visit him again for the rest of the week, and Mark turns his friends down every time they ask him to come to the bar.

Someone decides it’s time for an intervention.

Adam storms into his apartment the following Friday, scowling. Adam is a very good scowler thanks to his dramatic eyebrows. Today, he’s directing his scowl at Mark.

“You,” he says, “are coming with me.”

“What are you doing here?” Mark answers.

Adam acts like he hasn’t heard him and wags a finger in his face. “You’re going to stop being so pitiful and apologize to KC,” he says.

“Apologize to—What? I didn’t do anything!” Mark sputters, outraged.

“Then why has he been acting so depressed all week?!” Adam yells back, throwing up his hands.

“I don’t—” Mark cuts himself off, because he _ does _ know. He thinks back to the disappointment on Kyle’s face back in his office when Mark refused his offer of lunch.

Mark is an idiot.

His face must crumple or do something equally pathetic, because Adam suddenly looks _ sorry _ for him.

“Aw, Scheif,” he says, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him an affectionate shake. Adam’s good at that sort of thing. He has comforting biceps. “Look, just. Talk to him, okay?”

Mark sighs. “Okay,” he says. He narrows his eyes at Adam. “You’re driving, though.”

Adam grins.

The bar is busy when they arrive, but Josh, Nikolaj and Patrik have taken over their usual table and they move their coats so Adam and Mark can sit down. They also look sternly at Mark, but they don’t say anything snide. Apparently, the fact that he showed up is good enough for them.

Jack is working the bar solo right now and he gives Mark a sharp look when he squeezes through the crowd.

“Where’s Kyle?” Mark asks. At Jack’s hesitant expression, he adds, “I have to talk to him about something important.”

“He’ll be out soon.” Jack slides someone their drink with a charming smile. “He’s getting a case of Tito’s from the back.”

Mark gets a glass of water and goes back to the table. He keeps an eye on the door to the back room until, a few minutes later, Kyle comes out with a box. Mark stares at the flex of the muscles in his forearms.

He watches Jack nudge Kyle in the ribs while he empties the box, motioning towards Mark. Kyle’s eyes widen when he sees him and Mark doesn’t look away. Kyle smiles tentatively and Mark smiles back.

_ Later, _he mouths, and lifts his glass of water.

He thinks he sees Kyle blush. 

Of course, he could be mistaken. But he thinks he does.

Mark spends hours at the table, even after his friends tap out for the night and head home. He doesn’t drink any alcohol, just gets one more glass of water after his first one runs out and nothing else after that. He wants to be sober.

The bar is open late because it’s Friday, but eventually people file out until barely anyone is left. Jack’s shift ended a while ago, so it’s only Kyle behind the bar.

It’s late, but Mark feels wide awake.

The lights come on and the last stragglers head home. Mark stays. He moves to a barstool while Kyle and Blake clean up, his knee bouncing while he waits. 

Kyle works extra fast tonight, wiping up spills and sweeping quickly but efficiently before going to the back to change and get his bag.

He comes back out in sweats and a hoodie under his coat, his curls poking out from under his toque. He wraps a scarf around his neck and looks at Mark carefully.

“Can we talk?” Mark asks.

“‘Course,” Kyle says, like he’s surprised Mark would even have to ask. “Your place or mine?”

Mark flushes at the words, deeply aware of the other connotations. Kyle winces like he’s realized the same.

“Yours,” Mark says before Kyle can do something like apologize. Mark wants him to have the advantage of being in his own home. 

If it goes badly, Mark can call a cab. Like, it wouldn’t be the first time a cabbie has seen him cry in the backseat.

“Okay,” Kyle says. He tips his head towards the door and follows Mark outside.

The drive to his apartment is quiet. Mark doesn’t reach for the radio dials as soon as he gets in, but Kyle puts on Mark’s favourite pop station anyway. Butterflies flutter in Mark’s stomach.

In the elevator, Mark asks Kyle how his term paper is doing. Kyle looks pleased to talk about it and Mark knows he’s genuinely excited for the project. It’s a welcome break in the tension.

The tension returns as soon as they enter Kyle’s apartment, though. Kyle kicks off his boots and tosses his toque into the closet, then fiddles awkwardly with the ends of his scarf. “I just—” he starts.

Mark shakes his head. “Inside, first,” he insists, taking off his own coat. 

Kyle acquiesces and leads the way to the living room. Not that Mark needs directions.

They sit on the couch, bodies turned so they can face each other. Kyle wraps his arms around his legs, practically curling up into a ball where he’s propped up against the armrest.

“I want to apologize,” Mark says finally.

Kyle looks confused. _ “You _ want to apologize?” he says. “But I—” He frowns. “What for?”

“I wasn’t very nice to you on Monday,” Mark says. “I shouldn’t have turned you down like that. I shouldn’t have lied about having work. I’m sorry. I know I hurt your feelings.”

Kyle doesn’t seem surprised to hear that he lied. “It’s okay,” he admits. He bites his lip and Mark is struck with a jolt of heat at the sight, so similar to the picture Mark still hasn’t deleted from his phone. “I want to apologize about something, too.”

Now Mark is well and truly perplexed. What has Kyle done that should warrant an apology?

“I didn’t mean to make things awkward,” Kyle blurts. “I just didn’t know how else I could make it obvious. I shouldn’t have asked them, I—”

“Wait, what?” Mark shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

“The pictures,” Kyle says. He looks miserable and humiliated. “I did start out doing it for a good cause, but when your friends came without you that day, I thought—I thought I could ask them if you’d want pictures. I know you’re not—I know you’re more traditional with this stuff, but they said you would.” He shrugs helplessly. “They were wrong. I’m sorry. It’s my fault, don’t blame them.”

“Hang on,” Mark says, still stuck on that first part, “it was _ your _ idea to get my friends to send me your nudes?”

Kyle nods. The corners of his mouth are turned down like the petals of a wilted flower. “I’m really sorry,” he says. “I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

“What the fuck,” Mark says out loud. He barely notices the swear word, but Kyle winces. “My friends are idiots.”

Kyle curls tighter into himself. “It’s not their fault,” he says again, his voice small.

“Oh, yes, it is,” Mark says, starting to feel worked up. “They knew all along that I was pining after you like—like some _ damsel, _ and when I was too embarrassed to buy pictures from you, they insisted that they’d do it for me out of charity!” He throws his hands up into the air. “They couldn’t have mentioned, I dunno, that you were into me the whole time?” 

“Uh.” Kyle goggles at him.

“Ugh.” Mark puts his face in his hands. He’s going to have a stern talking to with his _ friends _very soon.

Kyle touches his shoulder carefully. “Mark,” he says, his voice hesitant but steady, “did you say that you’re into me, or was I imagining that part?”

Oops.

Or, Mark amends, Not Oops. Considering that Kyle also admitted that he’s into him.

“Yes,” Mark says firmly. Then, so Kyle doesn’t think that he’s confirming his _ imagining things _ idea, he straightens and looks Kyle in the eyes. “I really like you, Kyle.”

Kyle beams. “Well,” he says, “that’s good to know, because I really like you, too.” He wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t take so many English classes for just _anyone, _ you know.”

They sit there grinning at each other like idiots for far too long. Kyle suddenly looks considering. He bites his lip and Mark can’t stop his gaze from dropping to his mouth.

Kyle smiles again. “Hey, Mark,” he says, “can I kiss you?”

Mark doesn’t bother with an answer. He curls a hand around the back of Kyle’s neck, fingers threading through his hair, and pulls him closer, forcing him to rock forward and up onto his knees.

It’s difficult to kiss when both parties can’t stop giggling, but they do their best.

The last of that crushing shame dissolves into bubbly warmth in Mark’s chest and he wraps his other arm around Kyle’s back. Kyle winds his arms around Mark’s shoulders and pulls himself into his lap.

He tugs at Mark’s hair, his mouth slick and eager against Mark’s as the last of their laughter fades into something deeper, hotter. He mouths at Mark’s jaw, just scraping his teeth over the skin there. Mark moans and grabs Kyle’s hips.

While Kyle kisses down his neck, Mark pushes Kyle’s shirt up to skate his hands over his abs.

“Wanted to touch you for so long,” Mark mumbles, digging his thumbs into Kyle’s waist.

Kyle shudders, then sits back so he can pull his shirt off the rest of the way. He doesn’t give Mark much time to look before he’s moving back in for a kiss.

Mark loses his shirt, too, and the feeling of Kyle’s warm skin against his is almost too much to bear. Kyle plasters himself up against Mark, pinning him effectively against the back of the couch.

Realistically speaking, Mark could lift him off easily. Not that Kyle’s skinny, but. He’s wiry.

Mark doesn’t want to move, though. He likes it here.

Kyle nips at his earlobe, then, his breath hot against Mark’s skin, he whispers, “did you look?” 

Mark is a little bit dazed and it takes him a moment to gather his wits. “The pictures?” he asks.

“Mmhm.” Kyle presses a soft kiss beneath his ear.

“Yeah,” Mark gasps. “I looked at all of them, I—” Here he has to pause. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore, but he’s certainly embarrassed.

“You?” Kyle prompts. He sits back to look at Mark expectantly.

“I got off to them,” Mark admits. “To you.” 

The red flush that spreads from Kyle’s face down to his chest is adorable. “Well,” Kyle says. Sort of. It’s more like a squeak.

Mark wonders if that was too much.

“We should, uh. Bedroom. If you want,” Kyle says before Mark can ask if that was alright.

“Yeah,” Mark breathes. He almost regrets it when Kyle slides out of his lap—almost, because Kyle strips out of his sweats the second he gets into the bedroom. Mark tries not to trip while he takes off his own jeans, distracted by the way Kyle looks naked.

He saw the pictures, but they were nothing like the real thing.

Free of his jeans, Mark climbs into the bed and on top of Kyle. They kiss again, a little more lazily this time. They’ve both figured out that there’s no rush.

Kyle grinds up against him, mumbling against his mouth as he searches for friction. Mark shoves a thigh between his legs, gives him something to rub off against, and keeps kissing him.

Mark grips the sheets on either side of Kyle’s head as he rocks against Kyle’s hip, his breathing stuttering in his chest as heat builds inside him.

Kyle grabs his ass to pull him even closer. He moans, high in his throat, and his hips twitch against Mark’s thigh as he comes. Spent, he sags against the mattress and looks up at Mark through his lashes.

“C’mon, baby,” Kyle says, tracing his fingers over Mark’s collarbone, “come on me.”

“Freaky,” Mark teases, but he shifts so he can wrap a hand around his cock. His hand is dry, but he’s already slick with precome and barely seconds later he’s right on the edge. 

Kyle grabs a handful of hair and pulls him down for one more kiss right as Mark comes all over his belly with a groan.

There’s no finesse in the kisses that follow, but it’s nice. Comfortable.

What isn’t comfortable is the come drying on Mark’s thigh and Kyle’s abs, so they stumble to the bathroom and climb into the shower to clean up.

Kyle pushes him against the tile wall and kisses him. “It’s late,” he says between kisses. “Stay over.”

“Mm,” Mark says, pinching his waist fondly. “That depends. Am I gonna get pancakes?” He grins.

Kyle rolls his eyes, but can’t suppress his own smile. “I’ll see what I can do,” he teases.

“Good,” Mark says, and ducks in to kiss Kyle’s cheeks. He leans their foreheads together. “I would stay without pancakes, by the way,” he adds. In case Kyle doesn’t know.

Kyle nudges their noses together. “I know,” he says.

Mark kisses him again anyway. It’s always best to be thorough.

**Author's Note:**

> ehehe thank you for reading and thus enforcing my desires to write more for them :3c
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)
> 
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